


You're Never Gonna Fit In Much, Kid

by itstheweekend (petersnotkingyet)



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Adam whump, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Getting Together, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, M/M, Protective Blake, originally posted on tumblr but moved here by request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/itstheweekend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small, dorky, and queer, Adam is an unlikely friend of the school's starting quarterback, Blake Shelton, but the two teenagers get along better than anyone would have thought.  However, not everyone seems to be happy with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to tumblr in 2012 and is being moved here by request. I've briefly edited, but most of the content is the same.

“What?” Blake sputtered, looking down at his friend Christina. Blake was already 6’2 and Christina was only a little over 5’1, so it was a pretty significant height difference.

“You heard me,” Christina responded. “There’s a rumor going around that you have a thing with that little freshman that always hangs around you.”

Blake chuckled. “Christina, Adam’s a cute kid, but I don’t like guys,” he stated with a good-natured smile.

“Adam does,” Christina said seriously. The smile dropped from Blake’s face.

“Christina,” he said solemnly, “I don’t really know if Adam likes boys or girls or both or neither, but that’s his business. The kid doesn’t weigh ninety pounds soaking wet, but he still gets his face smashed into the sidewalk. If you think he likes boys, I suggest you keep it to yourself.”

Seeming startled, Christina nodded and scurried on to her first period class. Shaking his head, Blake headed to the gym for PE. Adam happened to be in that class, and the senior had to force his conversation with Christina out of his head as the freshman grinned at him and waved.

“Hey, Blake,” Adam greeted cheerfully.

“Hey,” Blake responded. Adam and Blake had met in the first few weeks of school, and the freshman had wormed his way into Blake’s life. The only times they could really talk were in PE and when they saw each other in the hallways, but Blake could tell Adam didn’t have many friends in his own grade and didn’t seem to get along well with many of the other students at Voice High School. “What’d you do to your face?” The words slipped out before Blake had thought about them, but Adam didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Some asshole shoved me into the lockers when I was going to the bus yesterday,” Adam said. He had a small cut above his right eyebrow, and the eye was puffed up and dark.

“Adam here is too light,” Cee-Lo stated in his typical deep, unusual tone. “A light breeze could blow him across the parking lot.”

“Shut up,” Adam said, rolling his eyes and elbowing the older boy.

Just then, the coach walked in, and the boys idly strolled to their exercise lines on the gym floor. The lines were alphabetical, so Blake was a good distance away from Adam and Cee-Lo, but he was diagonal to Carson, one of his best friends, who he could talk to while the coach texted his wife. Once the coach was satisfied that they were warmed up, he shoved a cart of basketballs out and retreated into his office. The boys began scrabbling over the basketballs, and Carson managed to make it out with one.

“Want to play?” he asked Blake and Cee-Lo.

“Sure,” Blake agreed, “but we need another person. Want me to see if Adam’s down?”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Tyler can play with us,” he said, beckoning over a tall, dark-haired junior. “Adam can go play with his little band geek friends.”

“Sounds good,” Cee-Lo said. Blake felt a bit guilty, but he agreed and pretended not to notice Adam standing awkwardly around the edges of the court. Eventually, the scrawny freshman gave up on trying to find something to do and sat in the bleachers doing homework.

-

“What?” Blake grumbled into his phone. Normally, he was nicer than that, but it was 2:04 in the morning, and that was too damn early to be woken up by the insistent ringing of his cell phone.

“Hi, Blake,” a small voice whispered awkwardly.

“Adam,” the seventeen year old asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Why are you calling me at two o’clock in the morning, man?”

“I- um… I,” Adam stuttered. Blake’s concern grew as the younger boy paused to take a deep breath and let it out shakily. “I need somewhere to stay tonight. My dad is- he’s-” Adam took another shaky breath, and Blake could hear something shatter in the background. “I just can’t be at home right now. I don’t have anybody else I can call. Could you- Could you come get me?”

“Sure,” Blake said, flipping on the light switch in his room so he can find his boots. “What’s your address?” Adam listed it off, and Blake scrawled it down in pen across the palm of his hand. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, sounding relieved.

“No problem,” Blake said as he grabbed a piece of paper, scrawled a note on it, and taped it to his door so his parents wouldn’t freak out if they woke up while he was gone. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Less than nine minutes later, Blake pulled into the driveway of Adam’s house, and the younger teen hurried off the porch and into the cab of Blake’s truck. “Thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbled as he buckled up. Blake pulled out of the driveway and began the route back to his own house,

“No problem,” the seventeen year old said again. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on?”

After several seconds of hesitation that made Blake worry he’d offended him, Adam finally answered, “My dad gets mean when he’s drunk. My mom’s out of town for a few days, so I couldn’t call her. I just couldn’t stand another night in that house.”

“That’s rough,” Blake said, cringing at the words but not knowing what else to say. Adam shrugged and didn’t reply. The rest of the drive was silent.

It was too dark for him to be certain, but Blake was pretty sure Adam was crying.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you have any pajamas?” Blake whispered to Adam once they’d successfully tiptoed across the house and upstairs without waking Blake’s parents.

“No,” Adam responded, matching the seventeen year old’s volume. “And I don’t have any clothes for tomorrow. I’m an idiot; I didn’t bring anything with me. Not even a toothbrush.”

“It’s alright,” Blake said. “I can loan you some sweats to sleep in and something for school tomorrow. We keep spare toothbrushes around too, so don’t worry about that. You’ll have to do without all your fancy hair stuff though.” Adam snorted indignantly at the last part of Blake’s statement, but still gave him a grateful smile.

“Hey, Blake,” Adam whispered as he settled into Blake’s large bed and curled under the covers. He had wanted to sleep on the couch, but Blake had insisted the younger boy use his bed.

“Yeah,” Blake responded, dragging a blanket off the bed and collapsing unceremoniously onto the couch.

“I really appreciate this, man,” Adam said.

“It’s no big deal,” Blake said. “Goodnight.”

Adam murmured a goodnight, and Blake stretched out one long arm and flicked off the light.

The next morning, Blake prodded Adam awake, and they went through Blake’s closet for something that might fit the younger boy. They both agreed that Adam’s jeans from the previous day were plenty clean, but his tee shirt had crumpled when he slept in it. The senior gave Adam a tee shirt he wasn’t entirely drowning in before Adam went to Blake’s bathroom to take a shower.

“Hey, Mom,” Blake said as he went downstairs. “I had to go get a buddy of mine last night. Well, actually it was early this morning. He needed a place to stay for the night.”

“Which friend?” Mrs. Shelton asked as she put bread into the toaster.

“You don’t really know him,” Blake said. “His name’s Adam. He’s upstairs taking a shower right now.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” she said, and Blake knew from her tone that there would be more to it than that. “Why did he need a place to stay?”

“Well, um…” Blake stalled. He sincerely doubted Adam would want him telling people that he had to leave his house because his dad was drunk.

“Blake Shelton, you tell me this instant,” Mrs. Shelton said in a warning tone.

“I- Well, I…”

“My dad was yelling and breaking stuff,” Adam said from the top of the stairs. The shirt Blake had loaned him was the smallest one he had, but it still came down to Adam’s thighs. “I hope I’m not intruding, but my dad had a few too many drinks, and I didn’t have anyone else to call who could get there fast enough.”

“Oh, honey, it’s no problem,” Mrs. Shelton said, taking in the fact that Adam was only about five feet tall and had a black eye. Blake could visibly see her mother-instincts kick in. “Come sit down. Breakfast is just about ready.”

Adam obeyed and awkwardly slid into the seat beside Blake. Mrs. Shelton put a plate of bacon and toast in front of him, and the freshman thanked her before beginning to nibble at it. Five minutes later, the two high schoolers were in Blake’s truck on the way to school.

“To PE!” Adam declared with joking drama, the politeness that he’d used around Blake’s mother gone. The senior laughed and followed Adam into the gym. 

“Adam, you know I admire unique fashion, but why are you wearing a shirt that’s long enough to be a dress?” Cee-Lo asked. Blake laughed, and Adam glared at him.

“I stayed the night with a friend, and I didn’t have time to pack my own clothes,” Adam said, purposefully not using names. That seemed to be a good enough reason for Cee-Lo, and the boys went into the locker room to change into their gym clothes.

“What’s with the not elaborating on who you stayed with?” Blake asked the younger boy.

“Shelton, I’m not a total idiot,” Adam said. “I know that people think I’m a creepy, gay, little freak who stalks you. How do you think people would respond if they knew I stayed the night at your house?”

Blake shrugged, and the dark-haired freshman didn’t say anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

“Blake!” Christina called, trying to get the other teenager’s attention from a few feet down the hall.

“What’s up?” Blake said, stepping into a doorway to give her time to catch up.

“I thought you’d want to know that some people in chemistry were talking about you and Adam,” she said in a quiet, low voice. “Tyler saw you too pull into the parking lot this morning and saw that Adam was wearing your shirt. He said you were fucking.”

“Where the hell did that come from?” Blake said, louder than he meant to be. “I barely even know the kid. Why is everyone making such a big deal of it?”

“I’m just telling you so you can talk to Miranda,” Christina said defensively, naming Blake’s girlfriend. “They were calling her your ‘big, gay beard,’ and she got pretty upset. You might want to kind of give out an explanation why you gave him a ride.”

“Do you want to know why Adam spent the night at my house and is wearing my clothes?” Blake said, still speaking in his too-loud, angry tone. He wasn’t thinking, just full of rage that people were giving Miranda grief over some kid he hung out with. “His dad was drunk. I had to go pick him up at two in the fucking morning because the kid doesn’t have any other friend he could have called.”

“Blake,” Christina murmured, eyes fixed on something behind the taller teen. Blake whirled around, and his stomach instantly dropped when he spotted Adam, looking like a hurt child with his too-big shirt and bruised face.

“Adam…” Blake trailed off, floundering for a way to make what he’d said alright, but it was too late. Blake had just loudly announced in a public place that Adam’s dad was a drunk and called Adam friendless.

“Fuck you, Shelton,” Adam spat, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall. Once he was out of the older boy’s eyesight, he ducked into a restroom, furiously wiping at his eyes which had begun to stream. The fourteen year old winced as he dragged one of his hands over his bruised eye. The reminder of getting shoved around just made him cry harder. Suddenly, the bell rang, and Adam jumped in surprise at the unexpected noise. The freshman took a deep breath and splashed a handful of water on his face before hurrying towards his AP literature class.

The next day, Adam tried to return the shirt Blake had loaned him without actually speaking to him. “Adam,” Blake said as the younger boy started walking to his spot in the exercise lines. Adam ignored him, but the senior continued talking. “Adam, I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to. I just slipped out. Christina told me about people giving my girlfriend a hard time, and I just got so mad I wasn’t thinking.”

“You think people don’t say shit about me?” Adam said, round on his heel to face the seventeen year old. “Your friends tell you about people whispering about you. People say it to my fucking face. And you know what? I am gay. Do you know what that means for me in a school like this? It means I get slammed into lockers. It means I come to school in to morning and see, “Burn in hell, faggot!” on my locker. I’m never going to have as many friends as a straight kid. I’m never going to go to a dance with someone, because who could like a faggot like me, right?”

“Adam, I-”

“You don’t have a damn clue, Shelton,” Adam spit out, voice cracking. “You’ve already got your fucking football scholarship. You’re going to marry some girl and have 2.5 perfect kids and they’ll have a perfect family in a perfect house. Not everybody gets that, Blake, so from the bottom of my heart, _fuck you._ ”

Ignoring students that had gathered to watch, Adam strode out of the gym in the direction of the nurse’s office. He could tell her he had a headache, and maybe she’d let him sleep through a couple classes. _Who needs Blake?_ Adam though blindly as he wiped at his eyes. _Who needs stupid, perfect Blake Shelton?_


	4. Chapter 4

Adam stared at his locker blankly. It had only been two class periods since he yelled at Blake in the middle of the gym, but his admirers had already decorated his locker with hateful terms scrawled in permanent marker.

_Fag_

_Go to hell._

_God doesn’t love queers._

_Fairy_

Finally tearing his gaze away from the slurs, the dark-haired freshman opened his locker and pulled out his books for the next couple classes. As he walked towards honors biology, Adam did his best to ignore the people ducking their heads to whisper to their friends. A group of football players started calling out, “Lady-Boy!” and laughing, but Adam didn’t break stride.

Once the school day finally dragged to a close, Adam lingered in his seventh period class until most of the students had left before he went to his locker. He was purposefully killing time to avoid having to deal with more of the football players who had followed him in the halls all day, yelling slurs and throwing paper wads at his head. It meant he’d miss the bus, but he was in no hurry to be in close confines with any of his peers.

At his locker, Adam put everything he’d need for his homework into one binder and put it in his backpack. He’d have to sort it back into the appropriate binders and notebooks the next morning, but he wanted his bag to be light for the walk home.

“Hey, Adam!” someone called as the freshman stepped into the parking lot. Adam glanced around and saw the tall brunet boy that Blake occasionally played basketball with in PE.

“Hey, Tyler,” Adam said hesitantly as Tyler approached.

“So I hear you’re a little fairy,” Tyler stated, leaning against the brick wall next to Adam to leer over him.

“What’s it to you?” Adam asked, trying not to let his face show that he was starting to get scared. As he glanced around the deserted parking lot, he realized that waiting until everyone else was gone might not have been the best idea.

“I don’t like that I have to change in the same dressing room as a fag. I don’t want you looking at me.”

“Relax, Tyler,” Adam said. “Neanderthals like you don’t have anything I’m interested in.”

Moving quickly and without warning, Tyler kicked Adam behind his right knee. Caught off guard, the fifteen year old’s legs buckled easily, and he cried out as he fell. “Shut up, queer,” Tyler growled, planting a kick in Adam’s ribs. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and Adam gasped as he tried to get it back. He tried to get back to his feet, frenzied mind barely noting the pain that radiated from one of his legs. Before he’d even gotten completely upright, Tyler grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him face first into the bricks. Adam crumpled to the ground a second time, blood gushing from his nose. His backpack had slipped off, and the junior took advantage of that to land a kick against his back.

In the next ten minutes, blows rained down on Adam’s sides, back, arms, and legs. Somewhere in his panic, Adam was aware enough to cover his head with his arms and bring his knees to his chest. Finally, Tyler decided he’d done enough and seemed to have an idea at the last moment. Reaching into the side pocket of Adam’s backpack, Tyler withdrew a black Sharpe and began to write slowly in large capital letters on Adam’s white tee shirt.

_F A G_

“Just a little reminder, lady-boy,” he smirked, dropping the marker without capping it. Without another word, Tyler walked away and left Adam sprawled on the floor, not bothering to hide the fact that he was sobbing.

 _My cell phone is in my bag,_ Adam thought once the sound of Tyler’s truck had faded away. _I need to get to my bag_

He could already tell his legs weren’t going to hold him, so he rolled over onto his stomach painfully and squirmed towards his backpack. Finally, he was able to hook his fingers in one of the straps and drag it closer to him. Within a few more seconds, he’d located his phone and turned it on. The dark glass showed his reflection, and Adam winced when he saw how messed up his face was.

 _Who can I call?_ Adam wondered. His mom was still on a business trip, and his dad worked on the other side of town. Adam needed someone who could be there now. As he stared blankly at the screen, he could hear faint music coming from across the school. _The jazz band is practicing,_ he thought uselessly. _Wait- Cee-Lo is in the jazz band._

“Cee-Lo?” Adam asked as soon as the phone picked up.

“Adam?” the older boy asked. “What’s the matter? Your voice is all weird.”

“Cee-Lo,” Adam whimpered, “I need help.”


	5. Chapter 5

Cee-Lo hurried down the halls of Voice High School, faltering slightly when he saw a glimpse of Christina though the open door of the cheer room. “Tina?” he said, sticking his head into the room.

“Cee-Lo, what do you want?” she hissed. “I’m in the middle of practice.”

“Adam just called me. Someone beat him up, bad.”

Ignoring her teammates, Christina grabbed her bag and joined Cee-Lo in rushing down the hall. The seconds that went by felt much longer before they found Adam sprawled across the ground not far from the door. He’d dropped his phone, and blood had dripped all down his face. His bottom lip was busted, the skin on his cheek was skinned, both of his eyes looked like they were swelling. The knees of his jeans had torn, and blood made them cling to his legs. The red stains on his tee shirt drew their attention to the writing, and both of the older teens bit their lips. Adam was either unconscious or too out of it to talk.

“Call an ambulance,” Cee-Lo decided once the shock of the scene had worn off partially. Christina hurried to dig her phone out of her purse and punched in the three digits.

-

“What?” Blake all but yelled into his cell phone, grateful he was parked in his driveway rather than driving like he’d been a few moments before.

“Someone attacked Adam,” Cee-Lo repeated. “Christina and I called an ambulance, and they took him to the hospital. The cops came too.” Cee-Lo hesitated and then added, “They’re saying it was a hate crime.”

Blake leaned forwards and pressed his forehead into the crook of his elbow where it was propped on the steering wheel. “Why?” he finally managed to ask.

“They wrote ‘fag’ on his shirt,” Cee-Lo answered. Neither of them said anything for several seconds as Blake tried to even out his breathing.

“How bad was he hurt?” Blake asked.

“I don’t know, man,” Cee-Lo said. “His face was pretty messed up, and there was a lot of blood. He was out when we found him.”

“Are you and Christina at the hospital?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” Cee-Lo said then told Blake which hospital it was. “We had to give our statements to the police, and then we came here. The nurse said that we can’t see Adam before his parents get here, and no one is going to be able to see him before the doctors are done with him.”

“I’m on my way,” Blake decided, starting his truck back up. He hung up without waiting for Cee-Lo to say anything else and shot a quick text to his mom so she wouldn’t freak out.

From his house, it should have been a twenty-five minute drive to the hospital, but Blake made it in fifteen. When he got there, Christina’s cheer uniform and Cee-Lo’s usual clothes made it easy to spot the other two teenagers.

“Is Adam’s dad here yet?” Blake asked without preface.

“Yeah,” Christina answered. “He said he’d let us come in once he and Adam talked.”

Ten minutes passed with pacing and bouncing knees before a nurse came into the waiting room and told them Adam’s dad said they could come in. As they rode the elevator up two floors, a pang of anxiety sprung up in Blake’s stomach. He and Adam had been pretty good friends for a couple months, but the last thing Adam had said to him was literally, “Fuck you.” As soon as he thought about that, Blake was immensely grateful that whoever attacked Adam hadn’t killed him. He wouldn’t have been able to live with the knowledge that Adam got killed because he came out during a fight with Blake.

Blake’s breath caught in his throat as soon as he stepped into Adam’s room. Cee-Lo hadn’t been exaggerated when he said the fifteen year old’s face was messed up. His left ankle was in a blue cast, and he had a dazed look in his eyes. “He’s got a concussion and he’s on pain medication, so he’s not the most coherent,” the man who had to be Adam’s dad said. “Since he has someone to stay with him for a while, I’m going to go get some coffee and call his mom. I really need some caffeine.”

“Hey, guys,” Adam said awkwardly a few seconds after his father left the room.

“Hey,” Blake croaked past the lump in his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“High,” Adam stated candidly. “They gave me the really good stuff.”

Blake couldn’t help but let out a laugh before growing slightly more serious. “And how are things between us, man?” he asked quietly, ignoring Christina and Cee-Lo’s presence entirely.

Even in his drugged state, Adam seemed to realize this was a solemn subject. There were several tense seconds that made Blake’s stomach twist in knots. “We’re good,” Adam finally said. It was all Blake could do not to sigh in relief out loud.

“That’s good, Adam,” Blake said. Maybe it was a bit of hysteria at the whole ordeal, but the seventeen year old laughed a little. “That’s really good.”


	6. Chapter 6

Blake hurried from his locker, gym bag in hand, toward the gym. From the late night texting he and Adam had been doing for the past week, he knew that Adam was returning to school today, and the senior was eager to see him. With one of his friends out of school, football season over, and Miranda having dumped him, Blake had been finding himself with more free time than he knew what to do with.

Once he was out of the locker room, Blake looked around for Adam. There was no sign of him, so the seventeen year old chatted half-heartedly with Cee-Lo while he waited. Finally, Blake decided Adam must not have been feeling up to going back to school. At the last possible minute, the gym door opened, and Adam hobbled in on his crutches.

“Adam!” Blake called, jogging over. “What’s going on, dude?” It was only about 40 degrees out, and Adam wasn’t wearing a very good jacket, but his face shined with sweat. His usually perfect hair drooped down against his forehead.

“Missed the bus,” Adam mumbled as he dropped himself onto the bottom bleacher. “Dad was too hungover to drive, so I had to walk.”

“Adam, your house is at least four miles from the school,” Blake practically roared. “It’s 40 degrees out. You’re on _crutches!_ ”

“Trust me,” Adam said, gaining volume as he caught his breath, “I noticed.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Blake said. “I could have picked you up.”

“Because that ended so well last time,” Adam snapped sarcastically.

“Adam, I-”

His words were cut off by a shrill whistle from the gym coach. “Shelton!” the man called. “Get back over here!” Blake glanced back at Adam, looking conflicted and hurt, before he jogged back onto the court.

For the next few days, Adam and Blake’s friendship was tense. Blake was wondering if it would ever come as naturally as it had before what he mentally referred to as The Incident. But at 12:24 eleven days after Tyler attacked Adam, Blake’s phone rang.

“Hello?” Blake slurred. He’d been asleep and was barely coherent enough to answer his cell.

“Hey, Blake,” a shaky voice said meekly. There was an unusual noise, but Blake couldn’t identify what it was. “It’s Adam.”

“Adam?” Blake repeated, sitting up in bed and flipping on a lamp. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“Yeah,” Adam said. Now, Blake could tell what the sound was. It’d been muffled before, but now Adam was crying openly.

The senior was already slipping into his boots. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he assured the younger teen.

“Thanks, Blake,” Adam murmured.

“No problem,” Blake said reassuringly as he found a post-it note, scribbled _Gone to get Adam,_ and stuck it to his door. “See you in a few.”

“See you,” Adam said before hanging up.

Seven minutes later, Blake pulled up in front of Adam’s house, and the freshman hobbled out on his crutches. Blake got out and helped him in before tossing his backpack and crutches into the backseat. Once they got to Blake’s house, he carried Adam’s bag for him as the younger boy crutched up the driveway.

“Looks like my mom woke up while I was gone,” Blake whispered as he read his mother’s response on the post-it note. Inside his room, she had set up an air mattress on the floor next to Blake’s bed. Both of the boys smiled at the sight, and they were asleep within minutes.

-

“Adam?” Blake mumbled blearily as he was awoken for the second time that night. Adam froze like a deer in headlights, and Blake could see that he’d been crying when he flipped his lamp on. “What’s the matter, kid?”

Adam didn’t say anything, but Blake figured it out in seconds. He was holding the sheets from the air mattress, and there was a dark stain down the front of his pajama pants. “It’s alright, Adam,” Blake said, climbing out of his bed.

“No, it’s not,” Adam said, still crying out of embarrassment. “I’m fifteen, not five. Normal fifteen year olds don’t piss the bed.”

“How long has this been happening?” Blake asked, trying to keep his voice soothing.

“Since Tyler,” Adam mumbled.

“I’m going to kill him,” Blake growled to himself. Adam’s face was still hot with embarrassment, and he couldn’t stop crying. “Adam, it’s alright. The sheets will wash, and the air mattress is plastic so it’ll rinse off easy. Grab a set of pajamas out of my dresser, and go take a shower. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Adam nodded, and Blake carefully took the sheets from him and carried them to the laundry room. Adam grabbed a tee shirt and pair of basketball shorts from Blake’s dresser and headed to the bathroom. Once the sheets were in the washing machine, Blake deflated the air mattress and took it to the downstairs bathroom. He put the crumpled mattress in the floor of the shower and turned it on.

Twenty minutes later, the sheets and the air mattress were clean, and Adam had managed to clean off without getting his cast wet. “It’s already past five,” Blake stated. “I don’t see the point in going back to sleep. Want to play video games?”

Adam agreed and sat on the corner of Blake’s bed beside the taller boy. “Blake,” he said quietly, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone about that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Blake agreed. Adam smiled at him, and Blake’s heart thumped oddly.

Maybe it was through awkward and unusual ways, but it looked like they might be on the path to being real friends once again.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the course of the next week, Adam started sleeping over at Blake’s house every night. They would ride to school together in the mornings, and then at the end of the school day Blake would drop him off at home. Around nine o’clock, Blake would drive to Adam’s house and Adam would be sitting on his front porch with his school backpack and a sack of clothing. On the sixth consecutive night, Mr. Shelton woke up and found his son putting sheets and the bottom half of Adam’s pajamas into the washing machine. “Blake?” the man asked. “What are you doing?”

“I… umm…” Blake stalled. Mr. Shelton looked at the sheets and noticed the stain. “Adam wets the bed sometimes,” Blake relented, knowing it was lost. “He… he has nightmares about what happened with Tyler.”

Mr. Shelton nodded and seemed to hesitate before speaking. “Blake, wetting the bed after a traumatic event is a sign of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“Adam doesn’t have PTSD,” Blake denied, shaking his head. “PTSD is for war vets. Adam’ll be okay. He just needs some time.”

“Son, Adam was beaten. He lives with an alcoholic. You’re going to have to look out for your friend,” Mr. Shelton said.

“Of course I’ll look out for Adam. I always do,” Blake said, pressing the start button on the washing machine.

“Just listen to me. Normally, someone in Adam’s situation would be getting a lot of counseling, but you and I both know that his dad isn’t going to do that. We’re not his parents, so we’re doing all we can do to help him out. You’re going to have to make sure he knows he can trust us with anything and make sure he knows you’ll keep him safe.”

“I will, Dad,” the seventeen year old nodded.

“Good,” Mr. Shelton said, clapping his son on the shoulder. “I’m going to go back to bed. Tell Adam to avoid drinking anything for an hour and a half before bed and use the toilet right before he goes to sleep. Might help a bit.”

“Got’cha,” Blake said. “Thanks, Dad. Goodnight.”

Mr. Shelton went back to his bedroom and Blake returned to his own. Adam had gotten out of the shower and had on a pair of flannel pajama pants, but was topless. To his surprise, Blake had to force himself to keep his eyes on Adam’s face.

A few hours later, Blake was pulling in to the school parking lot in his monstrosity of a truck. He quickly walked around to the passenger side to hand Adam his crutches. They walked towards their lockers side by side, Adam crutching along awkwardly and Blake carrying the younger boys backpack for him.

“Looks like the fag turned Shelton into a fag,” someone said. Blake froze where he stood and slowly turned to face the boy who had spoken.

“What did you just call him?” Blake demanded.

“Blake, drop it,” Adam mumbled. “Come on, let’s just go to class.”

“Adam, this is how it started with Tyler,” Blake replied in a low voice. “No one ever did anything about them calling you stuff like that and it escalated.”

“You heard what I said,” the offending boy said.

“You better take that back,” Blake said, setting Adam’s backpack on the ground and taking a few strides forward.

“No,” the teen, Preston Mann, said. “In fact, I’ll say it again. Your butt-buddy’s a fag. It’s too bad Tyler didn’t kill him.”

That was all it took to set Blake off. He slammed a fist into Preston’s face, knocking him off guard, but not enough for him to hesitate before retaliating. Within seconds, the two seniors were brawling and girls were shrieking as they hurried away from the fight. Two of the football coaches and one of the baseball coaches came running down the hallway, hurrying to pull the two teens apart.

“Maybe I’ll kill him myself,” Preston spit at Blake, his face red with exertion and anger.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” Blake roared.

“That’s enough!” one of the coaches shouted. “Both of you, get to the office now!”

Preston was in with the principal first Blake sat in one of the chairs right outside of the office, rubbing a hand through his hair and sighing heavily. “Blake,” came a whisper. Blake glanced over to see Adam crutching in quietly.

“Adam,” Blake said, standing up, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Adam said. “What about you, you big idiot?”

“I’m fine,” Blake said. “He got in a couple of good shots, but I would have won if they hadn’t split us up.”

“What'd you do that for?” Adam asked with a sigh. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Someone had to,” Blake said. “People shouldn’t just let guys treat you like that.”

“I’ve always been able to handle it myself,” Adam said, not wanting to seem helpless.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Blake grumbled. “Someone ought to protect you.”

“Blake, I—“

But Blake wasn’t thinking about what Adam was saying. Blake was just staring at Adam’s face, and more specifically, his lips. Before either of them had really processed what was happening, their lips were pressing together. Adam’s crutches clattered to the ground as he reached up and wrapped his arms around the older teen’s neck. Blake’s hands instinctively went just above Adam’s waist.

“What—What was that?” Adam asked once they were forced to break away from each other by their need for oxygen.

“I dunno,” Blake replied a bit breathlessly. 

“But, Adam, I like you and I like you a lot. You don’t have to handle this on your own any more. I’ve got your back.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had been ten days since Adam and Blake kissed outside the principal's office. Blake and Preston had both gotten a month of after school detention. The fight alone was enough to let people know something was up, and after a week Blake had told his parents and closest friends that he was dating Adam. After that, word just got around. A few people hadn't taken it well, but for the most part everything had gone well. Since Blake had been Adam's ride home, the younger boy was back to taking the bus. Once Blake was done serving his time, he would go pick Adam up and head back home. 

Mr. and Mrs. Shelton both liked Adam, and they were fine with their son coming out. They did, however, establish a new rule that they had to leave the bedroom door open when they were both in there now. That made it harder to stay up late on week nights, but the two teenagers had certainly managed. 

"You gotta hurry up, Adam," Blake said. "We're going to be late, and I've got enough detention already." 

"I'm trying," Adam huffed. He'd gotten better with his crutches, but they were still awkward. The warning bell shrilled, and Blake looked at Adam with an odd gleam in his eyes. "No," Adam said when he caught on. "No way, Shelton. Just go on ahead of me and get to gym."

"Yeah, right," Blake said. "Now hold on to your crutches." Ignoring the smaller boy's protests, Blake picked him up easily and hurried to the gym. 

Blake deposited his boyfriend on the bleachers like a sack of flower, grinning at the rest of the class as they stared. "That was humiliating," Adam stated matter-of-factly. 

"It got us to class on time, didn't it?" Blake quipping. Adam did his best to stay mad, but it wasn't working. 

"Go get on the floor for attendance," he finally deflected. 

"You're so cute when you're tryin' to be mad, sweetheart," Blake said before jogging out to his spot, still grinning like a moron. 

Shortly after, the coach employed Blake and Carson to move cheer mats outside the team to practice stunts. The mats weren't particularly heavy, but they were bulky enough to warrant two guys. It wasn't hard work, but it was time consuming to carry them from the gym to the football field. 

"Ow!" Blake said as he backed into the fence, more surprised than pained. "Carson, you're supposed to be telling me when I'm about to hit something, man," he griped as he tried to untangle his sleeve. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Blake," Carson said with false sincerity. Blake was surprised by the tone, and he tried to think of something Carson would be mad at him over. He came up empty, and Carson kept going. "I guess my moving skills aren't good enough for you." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Blake said, bewildered. 

Carson dropped his side of the cheer mat, and Blake lowered his half to the ground. 'We've been friends since third grade, man," Carson shouted. "I've always been there--even when you had a _mullet_ in middle school." 

"Yeah," Blake agreed. "You're a good friend. But what are you going on about?" 

"Adam didn't even move here until this year. He's a freaking freshman," Carson said. Blake was glad everyone else was in class. Carson was still yelling, and it didn't make any more sense than it had before. 

"It's not weird that I'm dating a freshman," Blake defended, trying to guess at what the problem was. Carson had younger siblings, so maybe he was worried about that. "I'm going to be seventeen for a while longer, and he's nearly fifteen." 

"This is supposed to be our senior year, man." Carson rubbed his hands through his dark hair and sighed. He'd finally quieted down a little. "This is supposed to be our year, but it's been all about Adam freaking Levine." 

Blake squinted. "He's my _boyfriend_ , Carson. Plus he nearly got murdered. Of course I'm spending a lot of time with him," Blake said. "But we're still friends. We hang out nearly as much as we used to, and you've always seemed like you liked Adam." 

"I don't want to be just friends," Carson blurted. There was a long pause. 

"Oh," Blake mumbled as the gears finally clicked. "Oh." 

"Yeah," Carson said, turning away slightly and taking a deep breath. 

"Carson, I-" 

"Don't," Carson interrupted. "I already know. I'm a good friend, but you don't see me like you see Adam. And let me guess; you didn't even know you liked guys until he came along." Carson dragged the back of his hand under his nose. "Not everybody's that lucky. But I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's just move this mat and go back inside." 

Without another word, the two boys finished moving the last cheer mat and walked back to the gym in silence. Blake took a seat on the bleachers next to Adam, who immediately picked up that something was wrong. Adam knew Blake well enough to see that he wasn't going to talk about it. Habitually glancing around to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, the younger boy leaned over and gave Blake a quick, tight hug. 

"You okay?" he asked, pulling away. 

"Yeah," Blake said, swallowing hard. "I'm alright." 


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you want to go to the winter formal with me?" Blake blurted as he pulled out of Adam's driveway.

"What?" Adam responded, looking shocked.

"I- well... I-" Blake stumbled over the words.  "We're already out to my parents and everyone who matters at school.  It's not too late to get tickets.  Adam didn't respond, and Blake immediately began backtracking.  "Actually, just forget about it.  It was a stupid idea.  I wasn't-"

"Let's go," Adam interrupted.  "I mean, if you still want to, let's go.  It could be fun."

Blake glanced up from the road to grin at his boyfriend in the passenger seat.  Adam felt his face get hot.  "I'll get the tickets tomorrow.  We'll have to hurry if we're gonna find something to wear in time."

"Ugh," Adam groaned.  "I hate monkey suits."

"You could always wear a dress," Blake offered seriously before dissolving into laughter.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, you kinky fucker?" Adam said, blushing nonetheless.

Blake was still laughing when they pulled into his driveway.  Going inside, the two boys stepped into the kitchen to get a drink before they went upstairs.  "Hey, Dad," Blake said.  "You're home early."

"Yeah," Mr. Shelton said awkwardly.  "Why don't you sit down, boys?"

"Is something wrong?" Blake asked as he and Adam took a seat at the kitchen table.  Mr. Shelton shook his head.

"No, nothing's wrong," Mr. Shelton said.  "We just have to talk."  He cleared his throat awkwardly and pushed a stack of pamphlets across the table.

_Sex and Your Gay Teen_

"Nooooo, no, no, no," Blake said, shoving the pamphlets back at his father.  "God almighty, Dad, we are not having this conversation!  I've already had The Talk."

"Yeah, but that was when you were dating girls."  Blake's father looked like he wanted to be there less than the two high schoolers did, but he was determined to get through it.  "As awkward as it may be for us, we need to have this conversation."

"Nope," Blake refused.  "And I'm pretty sure the awkwardness has caused Adam to stop breathing.

"Just- Just read the pamphlets and tell your mom we talked about it," Mr. Shelton relented.

"Sure thing, Dad," Blake agreed.  He split the stack of pamphlets and shoved half at Adam before sticking the other half in his back pocket.  "Lots of father/son/son's boyfriend bonding time.  I'm going to my room now."  With Adam behind him, Blake hurried upstairs.

"That was horrifying," Adam said.  Blake nodded his agreement.

"Yeah," the senior said with a tense laugh.  "He's trying though."

Adam went quiet, and he dropped his bag at the foot of the mattress he always slept on at Blake's.  "How are things with your dad?" Blake asked quietly.

"About the same," Adam mumbled.  "He was out of it when I left."

"Does he know about us?"  Blake tried to make the question sound casually and failed enormously.

"No," Adam said.  "It's not like I'm embarrassed or anything.  It's just... I-"

"Don't worry about it," Blake said reassuringly.  "You can tell him whenever you're ready, or not at all."  Adam sighed with relief and shot Blake a soft, relieved smile.


	10. Chapter 10

At Voice High School, the winter formal was often referred to as the Practice Prom. Although it was open to the entire school, mostly upperclassmen attended. The clothing wasn't quite as fancy as what would be worn to prom, but it was still more than Adam was used to. He was still on crutches, so his suit was wrinkled around the armpits, but somehow he still managed to look dapper. Blake left his jacket open and had a vest and tie underneath.

"Ready to go be this school's first openly gay couple?" Blake asked jokingly as he parked his truck in front of the school.

Adam laughed, only a bit nervously.  "Let's do this," he agreed.

Blake helped the younger teen out of the truck and onto his crutches.  Inside the gym, the music was already blaring and throngs of teenagers were slowly beginning to flock to the dance floor.  "Wanna dance?" Blake asked.  Adam cocked and eyebrow and made a _'you've got to be kidding me'_ face.

"On crutches?"

Blake just smiled, and Adam's expression morphed to _'why not.'_ The couple made their way out onto the dance floor.  A few people stared, but neither boy could bring himself to care.  It took a few minutes, but Adam eventually figured out a way to dance without his crutches getting in the way too much.

"There's going to be an open mic later tonight," one of Adam's buddies, James, told him as they went to get something to drink.  James, a junior, knew Adam from band.  James's girlfriend dragged him onto the dance committee, so he knew was would be happening.  "You should sing."

"Maybe," Adam shrugged, having no intention of actually doing it.

"You should," Blake said.  Adam shrugged, not looking convinced, so Blake added, "I will if you will."

That caught Adam's interest.  Adam sang all the time, in the shower, folding laundry, with the radio, so Blake heard him all the time.  Blake hardly ever sang, so getting to hear the senior's voice definitely added more appeal to the deal.

"Fine," Adam found himself agreeing.  "But you have to go first."

Blake had no problem with this.  Less than an hour later, he was at the mic singing Hillbilly Bone and occasionally making faces at Adam.  The students applauded thunderously for the goofy performance, and Blake took a bow to the applause before returning to stand next to Adam.

"You're up next," Blake said to his boyfriend.  Adam sighed and nodded, beginning to regret getting himself into this.  They listened to a pitchy performance of a Katy Perry song before Blake snatched up the microphone and handed it it Adam.

Other than the people who were still dancing, everyone stared at Adam as he found a song on the karaoke machine and pressed play.  Swallowing back his nerves, the freshman sang Love Somebody and did his best not to make eye contact with anyone.  Once the song ended, he hurriedly handed off the mic.

"You should sing more often," Blake said as they returned to the dance floor.

"Fat chance," Adam laughed.  "Now let's dance, hillbilly."

Blake grinned and drawled, "Sure thang, city boy."


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey, Blake," Adam whispered.  The digital alarm clock on Blake's dresser flashed 2:03 AM, and the country boy groaned as his boyfriend's voice broke the silence.  The dance had officially ended at midnight, but the two high schoolers had only gotten home twenty minutes ago.  "Are you awake?"

"No," Blake grumbled.  "I'm asleep, you dick."  Blake couldn't see the younger teen, but he could imagine Adam rolling his eyes.  There was a quiet shuffling noise as Adam rolled over and adjusted his pillow.  "What is it?"

"Do you remember," Adam said, "when we got in that big fight and I came out?"

"Yeah," Blake mumbled around the lump in his throat.  Things had turned out okay--they'd turned out great, even--but there were a lot of things he wished he'd done differently.  "I remember."

"I remember I was yelling at you, and I said, 'I'm never going to go to a dance with someone, because who could like a faggot like me?'  Do you remember that?"

Blake rolled over to face Adam's air mattress and found that the dark haired teen was already looking at him.  "Yeah, I do.  I proved you wrong."

Adam laughed and flopped onto his back.  "I went to a dance," he mumbled like he couldn't believe it.  "I went to a high school dance with my _boyfriend_."  He laughed again, giddy and shocked.  Black stretched out his arm to hang over the edge of his bed.  Adam reached up to toy with his fingertips.  The senior felt his eyes drift closed.  He was almost asleep when Adam spoke again.

"Is Cee-Lo's mom really going to make him switch schools because of what happened with Tyler and Preston?"

Blake hummed in affirmation.  "She... um..."  He blinked blearily, trying to clear some of the drowsiness from his mind.  "She said she doesn't want him at a school that just gives a kid a month of detention for making death threats because of someone's sexuality."

Adam frowned.

"I was okay with it," he said.  "The principal talked to me.  Preston got in more trouble than you because he started the thing with me, but they couldn't suspend him without suspending you too.

"I know," Blake said.  It still made him uncomfortable that Adam was willing to let Preston get away with threatening to kill him for Blake's sake, but they had settled that when it happened.  But Cee-Lo's mom is knows that Cee-Lo comes off kind of... fruit even if he is straight.  I guess she's worried he'll get beat up or something."

"I've never understood that phrase," Adam mumbled.  "What kind of fruit would Cee-Lo be?"

"What?"

"If he was a fruit," Adam said.  "What type of fruit would he be?"

Blake sighed.  "Adam, go the fuck to sleep."

"I'm not even tired," the freshman denied, still messing with Blake's splayed fingers.  Judging from the size of his hands, Blake still had another growth spurt in him, and Adam wondered if he would ever catch up.

"Shut up," Blake grumbled.  "Go to sleep."

"M'kay..."

The next day, Blake managed to drag himself out of bed around noon.  Adam had already gotten a shower and gone downstairs.  He didn't appreciate sleeping in the same way Blake did.  They'd both gone to bed without getting a shower the previous night--still sweaty from dancing in the hot, crowded gym.  Blake was starving, but he took a shower first.

"Good, you're up," Blake's father greeted when his son stepped into the hallway.  There were boxes sitting in the floor, and Mr. Shelton was walking a filing cabinet out of his office.  "Go get some breakfast, and then I'm going to need you to help me take the desk apart and get it out of here.  Adam offered, but I think he'd just disappear if that thing fell on him."

"What are you doing?" Blake asked, looking through the open door into his father's home office.  The filing cabinet was already gone, and the bookshelf had been emptied.

"Cleaning out the office," Mr. Shelton said.  "Most of the work I do from home is done in my boxers in bed.  I figured all this stuff might as well go to the attic, so Adam can have his own room."

"Are you for real?" Blake said.  Mr. Shelton nodded, and Blake's face split into a grin.

"Granted, it's not the biggest room in the house, but I figure we can get him a futon and a dresser in here," Blake's dad said.  "He's always here, so he might as well have his own space."

"Thank you, Dad," Blake said.  "This is great.  Thank you."

Mr. Shelton waved his hand dismissively.  "He's a good kid, Blake.  I'd like to think that we would have helped him whether you'd brought him home as a friend or as a-" Mr. Shelton cleared his throat and ducked his head a little, "boyfriend."

Blake beamed.  His dad had grown up on a farm in a small town.  He'd never known anyone who was gay, let alone thought his own son might be.  And here he was, making space for Adam of his own accord.

"Thank you," Blake said again.

"Just go eat some breakfast," Mr. Shelton said.  "You're not getting out of helping just because you got in at two in the morning--and yes, I know what time you got home."  Blake grinned, and he thundered down the stairs toward the kitchen.


End file.
